Tuesday, December 5, 2006

Miles To Go

My heart is sore, my thoughts are tangled, my fingers are numb; I stumble toward writing but the writing, right now, does not release or calm or soothe.

December has come in fighting, raining blows upon my heart.

My step-grandmother (the only grandmother that I have had since my mother's mother, the grandmother of my heart, passed away when I was thirteen) lies in intensive care. Dying, my grandfather says. A fall, an injury to the head. Subdural hematoma. He sighs, his voice tired, pained, over thousands of miles of telephone wire. He doesn't know what he will do. My heart pounds and strains; I try to comfort him; we'll come out, we're coming, we'll come soon, we'll come see her, come see you. He doubts this, doubts that we will be able to see her, doubts that she will last that long. I whisper promises to call, to comfort, whatever he needs, whatever they need; we'll be there soon, I say.

The next morning, this morning, I call my mother, who is estranged from her father, my grandfather, to urge her to call, to comfort, to set aside hurt and grievance, to be there. Of course, she says, of course, but haven't I told you? Her own news came just yesterday. Skin cancer. Melanoma. Malignant tumour. Cut out, dug out, stitched over, but still. It lurks. I'm fine, she says. I must be vigilant, she says, on my guard, but I'm fine. I don't believe her. Cancer is too dark a word; I can't wrap it in light.

The distance between me and family - so many miles, so many hours, so many days - stretches, stretches. I have struggled - do struggle - with my distance from Tanner, from my sister, from that measured life, from the many joys and from the many pains (more and more he stumbles, they stumble, it is getting more difficult to veil the truth with cheer.) I have struggled - do struggle - with my distance from my father, who misses the embrace of family, who needs me, I know, even though he won't say so. I struggle, struggle, struggle with distance. I miss them, they need me, I need them, it hurts.

Love can make any distance shrink, disappear; it draws the horizon to us, it allows us to touch the sun, feel its warmth, even when it is so far. Pain, fear - these make the smallest distance in time or space seem infinite, insurmountable. So far to go, so difficult the journey, why am I not already there?

My heart is sore, my head confused. Expect quiet from this corner for a few days.

I feel your pain. It can be so very hard to live far away. It feels like I am out of sorts caused by the distance between me and my family. The guilt and heartbreak are sometimes too overwhelming. I wish I could close the gap that separates my loved ones geographically and in my heart. ((big hugs))

My grandmother lost her battle at 3:30am this morning. I am off to the States for the funeral. Everyone kept telling me not to come down and help until she was out of ICU...wish I had followed my gut and gone as soon as I felt up to it. We are several thousand miles and a border crossing away from everyone and the weight bears down on us every day as well, so I can feel your pain. It's hell. Hang in there.

I'm so sorry -- I hate how when it rains it pours... Keep writing! Venting and letting it out will help, it has gotten me through horrible times. I'm saying prayer for you and your family. May you close the distance and feel closer to those you love....

this post hurts me and strikes a chord. with my own father, who i adored with every breath of my being, turning into something i don't want to believe- our relationship now strained and just a fragment of what it once was, pains me on a daily basis. i love you.

(((HUGS))) from Bumper and me. I understand how one aches and feels helpless when wanting to be with family. Family that is so far away. I'm thinking of you at this time and I'm sending good positive vibes your way.

oh, C. - i am so sorry. for all that i put so much value in the power of words, i cannot think of a single one that might lend you the comfort i am wishing for you. you are a strong and wonderful woman, and while you will struggle, you will also survive. i know sometimes that's not even what you want to hear. like i said - words seem useless here.

It's end of term, and I can't leave Toronto until classes end and papers are handed off to the TA, etc, etc. Plus, we have all of our travel arrangements made to be back there for the week of December 25th - it's an issue of figuring out whether I can get out there earlier. So, things are bit stressful right now... Thanks for all of your warm thoughts.

So sorry to hear of your news. I hope you can find comfort despite the miles.

If it's of any comfort my mother's had melanoma, and other skin cancers and has survived every one. When they're detected early it makes all the difference. Also? Get thee to a dermatologist when you get a chance - these things can run in the family (I know of a great one in the 'shwa, email me if you're interested).

Sending so much love your way my friend. I understand this all to well with my family far away and having experienced a very similar situation last year. I am thinking of you and your family and sending you a big hug of understanding and support. If you need anything ... anything at all .. please do let me know.

Oh Catherine. I'm sorry. I live a great distance from all of my family members as well, many of whom keep quiet about illnesses and injuries, leaving me to berate myself for not being there to help comfort them.

Your grandmother, your mother, and you and your family will be in my thoughts.

I'm so sorry, Catherine, for everything. Be strong but also allow yourself time to be utterly overwhelmed ... sometimes it helps the confusion to just let it all out in the privacy of one's bathtub.Best of luck, with everything.

My thoughts are with you. I know how important grandparents are. I still miss and think about my maternal grandfather. He didn't let on much, but as his first grandchild (out of 30, I know he had special worries for me.

I understand the distance thing. A lot. Last Christmas, my mother was diagnosed with Stage III colon cancer. I had just given birth two months earlier. My mom lives close to 5 hours away. During her chemo treatments, I wanted nothing more than to be able to go and help, but with a newborn and another small child, and with my husband unable to take off from work, it would have been too difficult.

It's not supposed to be like that. So I'm thinking of you, and your family. And hoping you find a little space of peace, and a little of that light you're finding so elusive right now.

I am so sorry you have to go through all of this right now. My Grandma suffered the same sadness that your Step-Grandmother is going through at the beginning of this year. My thoughts are with you.

Your words""Love can make any distance shrink, disappear; it draws the horizon to us, it allows us to touch the sun, feel its warmth, even when it is so far. Pain, fear - these make the smallest distance in time or space seem infinite, insurmountable."

Oh, Catherine, I'm so sorry to hear this latest news. Hang in there, do what you can, and cut yourself a little slack for what you can't. Hug Wonderbaby and keep encouraging your mom as you both go through this difficult time. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.

Gah! I'm so sorry to hear all of this. Your family is in my thoughts and prayers.I can't imagine how difficult this must be. Your writing about family and distance really struck a chord with me.{{{HUGS}}}

Separation is so difficult in times like these. It makes us feel guilty, even though we have done nothing wrong. It makes us feel alone even when we are with our immediate family. It makes us feel helpless and small and the world seem even larger than it is.

Separation is so difficult in times like these. It makes us feel guilty, even though we have done nothing wrong. It makes us feel alone even when we are with our immediate family. It makes us feel helpless and small and the world seem even larger than it is.

Late to the gathering, but I wanted to add that I am so sorry for your loss, and for all the other stress you are enduring. You've had a rough time lately, and I can only hope some good heads your way soon.

I'm sorry I didn't comment before - I was just browsing at work and didn't want to dash off something stupid.

I know how this feels. I came back from vacation some years ago to a message saying that my granny was dying fast and might not last the week. There's panic and guilt and fewar and sorrow and hope and despair because there isn't really hope and it's all mixed together into one big heavy lump of hurt and I sorry, so sorry, that you are there now. A big hug from me, although I'm guessing some cuddles and sweet baby kisses from WonderBaby are a better balm than anything I could offer.

I've been MIA a few days and am so sorry to have missed this. I'm far from all of my fmaily too and completely understand how the distance amplifies the pain and longing. I'll be thinking of you and your family during this trying time.

This is so sad, but so beautiful. I hope writing this helped you release some of what you're feeling. I'm so sorry about your step-grandmother and devastated to hear that Tanner is "stumbling." Your mother will be fine. Melanoma is the most curable cancer. My stepmother-inlaw has survived (the worst kind of) breast cancer. It will be alright. I'm thinking of you, and hoping, and praying. I really feel for you. You have a lot on your plate. ((Hugs))

I am so sorry to hear this - both about your step-grandmother and your mother. Words don't really comfort in times like these, but I do pray that your family can pull together to comfort each other during this difficult time.